


Cause we are who we are when no one’s watching

by zarrybunsquad (acquiescence)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Angst, Boys Kissing, Boys in Skirts, Canon Compliant, Emotional Hurt, M/M, Never forget Miami 2013, OTRA tour, Rings, Sad Harry, Veronica Malik - Freeform, Zayn leaving, best song ever, minimal mentions of other boys in this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-03
Updated: 2015-04-03
Packaged: 2018-03-21 01:23:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3672207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acquiescence/pseuds/zarrybunsquad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the first time in weeks, Zayn resurfaces. He’s still wearing the necklace with Harry’s rings, wearing it proudly against his chest like an armor for everyone to see.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cause we are who we are when no one’s watching

Manila was amazing that night. And also, _sweltering_ hot. The air was thick; the heat making Harry feel so restless, sweating through his bright yellow button-down that he’s left unbuttoned almost all the way down just to at least let some air in to let his skin breathe. And of course, despite of the heat that’s making his shirt stick to his skin every single time he moves, he’s still fucking buzzing; singing and dancing and dousing himself in water throughout the entire show. Well, when was he not?

It’s also the first show that Zayn isn’t here.

  
It’s only when he makes out a sign from a fan that says, “I miss you, Zayn” in bright mini LED lights with a familiar cutout of his face in the crowd that he remembers, stopping him for a few seconds that he forgets to sing his line. Niall seems to have noticed what’s gotten him so fixated, filling in for him without a word.

  
He lets out a sigh and holds his head low, waiting for the end of the song so he could run to the loo and regain his composure.

  
_He waits._

  
-

  
Shortly after the show, the boys were all piled into a van to be driven to their hotel that night. As the fireworks display that graced the night sky signified the end of the show, the show supervisors took it as their cue to send the boys to their hotel while the majority of the crowd were preoccupied and they could easily leave without getting mobbed.  
As soon as they arrived, the boys parted ways and went to their separate rooms, mumbling tired _goodnights_ and _see you in the mornings_ before taking off.

  
Harry slips in his keycard and lets himself into the room. He’s slept in so many beds in different places that he’s forgotten how it foreign it feels every time, his skin making contact with a bed that isn’t his, nor his room, in a city far away from home.

  
Two years ago he would’ve _fucking leapt in joy_ if given the luxury to spend the night in a hotel room, but now there’s too much alone in his room he might consider kipping with Niall just to prevent himself from wallowing in his feelings.

  
Sleeping with Niall is easy—no questions asked. He doesn’t even have to tell Niall anything. He just knows. Maybe tonight he’ll ask Niall to hold him close so he could fall asleep easily and forget the things that had been bugging him since Zayn left for UK wordlessly; not even a goodbye to Harry or a kiss on the cheek just to let him know he’s coming back before he knows it.

  
_Fuck these feelings._

 

He draws himself a bath, allowing himself to think things through as he luxuriates in it. He closes his eyes and lets himself relax into it, his back against the cool porcelain; already dozing off when suddenly an incoming call startles him awake. He retrieves his phone from the side of the tub, setting the phone against his ears without even bothering to check the caller ID.

It’s Zayn.

“Harry, I’m sorry” His voice from the other end of the line was shaking, as though he was on the verge of tears but he doesn’t want Harry to know. Zayn never cries, not even in front of him.

“What’re you sorry for, babe?”

“For a lot of reasons. For not being there tonight. For letting people down. Christ, Harry. I can’t live like this anymore.”

Harry sighs. “You know you could use a break and come back when you’re ready. We got this, you know.”

“No, you don’t understand Harry. I don’t want to come back anymore. I’m done with people looking into my every move, seeing me as a goddamn cheater when they have no fucking idea what it’s lik-“

“You want out, that’s what you’re saying? Well fuck you, Zayn! You’re not the only one who goes through public scrutiny so man the fuck up! Wasn’t it your fault that you don’t know how to be discreet for a goddamn second that the whole world caught you cheating on your fiancée?”

“Fuck, Harry! I didn’t call so I could be yelled by you and get reminded how much I fucked up so if that’s what you’re going to do—“

“No, listen here, mate-”

“Don’t ‘mate’ me, Harry.”

“Fuck you, Zayn. Is it my fault that we’ve reduced to this? I used to be enough for you! I let you fuck me against any surface, any time you want and I still didn’t suffice! I gave it all away to you, all of me! but you chose to break my heart!”

“Harry… please.” Zayn begs, despair apparent in his voice.

“Please what, Zayn? Did you call me as well because your fiancée dumped you? That you have no hole to stick your dick in? Hoping that you’d talk me into jacking myself off tonight? Answer me, fuck!”

“Harry, please. Let me just explain. I didn’t call because I wanted that, no need telling me twice how miserable my life is right now, shit.”

Zayn starts to cry then, Harry’s words stinging like hell from the other end of the line.

“I’m leaving, Harry. I wanted you to be the first one to know.”

“The fuck are you playing at? You just can’t leave like that! In the middle of a fucking world tour, really? You can’t leave me like that, Zayn. Please.” Harry was fuming. He couldn’t control the tears slipping down his cheeks, like they were betraying him. He sits up in the tub and considers for a second to get out of the bath, but he fears that his knees would give out just as his lungs feel so heavy on his chest at the moment.

“I can’t do this anymore, Harry. I’m sorry.”

“No! Please b-babe, stay. Just please, you can’t” And if Harry was refusing to let his emotions get to him before, he’s proper crying now, the rest of his words drowned out by his sobs.

“I can’t, I’m tired. It once felt right, you know? But now I feel like this isn’t what I want anymore. I stayed because there’s the lads, the fans, our families—and there’s you, there’s you that I always want to wake up to remind me that I’m not the only one fighting against the world. But it’s hard, Harry. Most of the time I just want to walk away from it all and vanish into thin air, just so I could be invisible for a while. Wish it was that easy.”

“You still have me, Zayn.” Harry admits, even if it means losing the walls that he built for himself. “If you want me to come back to you, just ask and I will, in a heartbeat.”

“I know.”

“Please stay, babe, please. We have three days off after Manila and I’ll fly out to see you, s-s-so we could talk this through.”

“Nothing to talk about now, H. I made up my mind and told the bosses already. They didn’t take it so well initially, but they can’t do anything but to let me go.”

“Funny how you were so afraid that I’d leave, but look what we’ve got here now.”

“I’m sorry.”

And there was dead air until Zayn manages to say, “I still love you, you know.”

Harry was stunned there for a second, doesn’t know what to do, whether to reply or not.

He opens his mouth to respond, but Zayn hangs up before he could speak. He tried to call Zayn back multiple times but he has his phone turned off, expecting Harry to call but refusing to let himself be persuaded into staying, _that little stubborn shit_.

He buries his face into his palms and lets himself cry. It’s only then that he realizes that he needs to get out of the bath, towels himself dry and cries himself to sleep.

 

 

-

 

Zayn can’t remember a time when everything was so easy. He realizes he should have braced himself for the blows that come with fame, the unwanted attention from people he is surrounded with and the constant probing in his life that he’ll never get used to.

Since the One Direction page posted his statement about leaving the band to become a ‘normal 22-year old’, he’s been on the headlines of every news and magazine articles that never seem to die out, one article after another springs up to keep the public in the know about the whole mishap surrounding him, and the lads. It’s scary how much bullshit the media feeds the people just for them to sell their papers; fabricating stories of no credibility just for the sake of publishing a material.

It’s been a while since he’s let himself do what he wants.

So now, he spends weeks holed up in his London mansion as he waits for everything to blow over. He uses up this time to mull things over, if this is really the life that he craves—out of the spotlight and out of the public eye. This bought him time to call off the engagement, resulting to the end of the relationship as well. All he earned from it was bad reputation anyway, so what's the point?

‘No use in staying if nothing makes you happy anymore’ seems to be the theme going on in Zayn’s life at the moment, so fuck it.

 

 

-

 

Trisha nurses him all throughout those weeks for him to recover from the emotional exhaustion he’s been experiencing for so long now.  
 Being at home gives Zayn a feeling of relief and security that nothing else can give.

He’s missed waking up without someone banging on his door, urging him to get up before he gets his ass whooped. He’s missed waking up to the voices of his sisters arguing over the littlest of things in the morning in the Malik household, his mother’s cooking, and the solitude found within the four walls of their home— almost everything.

Maybe he could revert back to his old life like nothing happened.

 

_Just maybe._

 

-

 

 

The thing is Zayn has too much time on his hands being practically unemployed now. Sure, he enjoys the amount of time that he has for his family and leaves some for himself, just so he could stop himself from thinking about things that shouldn’t be crossing his mind anymore in the first place.

But there are just times where he just can’t keep himself from thinking what if he had made another decision, if he hadn't left the band and just fought through the issues that kept on jabbing him before he snapped. He convinces himself that he’s not that strong to get through all of that, and carrying on with his life like it was that easy to put it all behind them isn’t just like him.

Sometimes he just wishes it never happened at all. Wishes he just stayed in bed that day when his mum practically begged him to get up so they could travel to Manchester for the X-factor auditions.

But then again, if not for the X-factor he wouldn’t have met the most amazing people that changed his life, his four brothers that he gained along the way. (And one of them turned out to be the love of his fucking life, as cheesy as it sounds. He shouldn’t refer to Harry as his brother because it’s disgusting to consider someone that way when you know each other’s bodies better than your own.)

He looks around in his room, past the framed awards that just reminded him of how the five of them conquered the world together through their music, back when they were at the height of their fame that never seemed to die down—and into a framed photo seated atop his dresser.

 

It’s of he and Harry, back in their glory days. It was during the filming of Best Song Ever in Miami, one of their boldest attempts in letting themselves go.

 

With Zayn dressed as a sexy, sexy office secretary, Harry couldn’t find a reason to pass up on an opportunity when it presents itself to him. He pulls Veronica aside, Zayn’s character for the music video, before he was sent to the makeup chair again to have everything removed and Zayn makes a reappearance.

The two have just finished shooting their scenes together, in which Harry was required to take Veronica by the hand and pull her in against him quite aggressively, leaving only an inch apart between their faces and their mouths _so so fucking close_ Harry could lean in and kiss him, while Veronica makes a show of refusing to be won over by Harry Styles.

Niall couldn’t stop laughing until he’s beetroot red, teasing Harry for being “ _so into_ his character” that time when he’s usually a pain in the ass when the boys are required to act. Louis gives him a disapproving look, the kind that screams "Abort mission! Abort mission!", as though he was hinting Harry that he’s practically so transparent, it’s obvious that he wants to lay Zayn out and bend him over during the shoot.

Everyone was praising the both of them for such incredible acting, making it appear so real for the cameras. Little did they know, there’s a lot more going on behind the scenes between Zayn and Harry.

 

Harry takes Zayn by the hand again, leading him into one of the empty rooms on the set of their music video while Zayn struggles in his high heels to keep up with Harry in a rush. Harry looks back to see if anyone has followed them to their secret spot and when he’s sure there’s no one in there, he locks the door and grabs Zayn by the waist. He brings their faces closer and kisses Zayn’s lips, the taste of his lipstick lingering on his mouth as they both relish in the moment. Harry pulls away after a few seconds, taking a step back to admire Zayn’s disheveled hair and his smeared lipstick.

“I’ve never kissed you like this before. You know, in a woman’s clothing.” He leans in for a chaste kiss again, bringing his hands to Zayn’s backside and letting his hands wander lower... and lower.

“Fuck, you’re so gorgeous, babe. I can’t help it.” And Zayn just laughs into the kiss, the fucking devil. He knows how powerless he makes Harry at the moment.

He pulls away from Harry instantly, suddenly wary messing up his make-up that could give the staff a hint of what he and Harry were up to during the break.Zayn evens his skirt out from the creases that Harry’s wandering hands have caused and raked his fingers through his hair to make himself presentable again.  
While Zayn was busy fixing himself, Harry whips out his iPhone and turns on the front camera.

“I want to remember this moment forever.”

He wraps himself around Zayn from behind, his hands possessive on Zayn’s waist as he places a soft kiss on Zayn’s cheek.

He takes one, two, three or four more shots until they let go of each other, heading back to where the others are to resume the shoot.

 

 

-

 

What Zayn does is he retrieves his and Harry’s shared rings from his drawer and wears them on a chain.

He closes his palm around it, his thumb fiddling with the gold ring as he holds it against his chest.

 

-

 

For the first time in weeks, Zayn resurfaces. He lets Jawaad post a picture of him to let the fans know that he’s doing fine, he’s alive and feeling slightly better. He’s still wearing the necklace with Harry’s rings, wearing it proudly against his chest like an armor for everyone to see.

 

-

 

Harry hadn’t meant to see it, but once he logs in to tweet about his excitement for their upcoming shows in South Africa, he stumbles upon the photo that’s all over his feed. Most of his mentions too, contain the same photo like the people were so dead set on letting him know that yes, Zayn still wears his rings on a chain. What they don’t know is that those rings mean more than the public knows.

 

-

 

After Miami, things have escalated quickly between Zayn and Harry. They were nothing close to serious until they had their awakening in Florida. One hotel night, before the both of them go to bed after an exhausting show at Oakland, Harry pulls out a box with two rings inside and takes Zayn’s hand.

“What are these, Harry?” Zayn draws his hand away, too taken aback by Harry’s offering to him.

“They’re rings, Zayn. My rings. Calm down, I’m not proposing.” Harry manages to turn it into a joke, when he’s actually been sweating, too nervous to play it cool.

They both sat up facing each other, as Harry grabs Zayn’s right hand again, slipping the silver and the gold rings into his ring and middle finger respectively. He runs his thumb through Zayn’s fingers, admiring how good they look against his skin.

He brings Zayn’s right hand to his lips and presses a kiss to the swallow, and then his knuckles.

“I love you, Zayn Malik.” Harry mumbles shyly. And Harry Styles was never a shy person until he met Zayn Malik.

Zayn snorts, _that bastard_. He doesn't seem to be convinced. “You’re such a sap, but I’ll take it.”

He climbs up into Harry’s lap and kisses him fervently.

Zayn pulls away to whisper, “I love you too, Harry Styles” against his lips, smiling so wide after he thinks his cheeks hurt.

“Now you’re engaged and married to me at the same time.”

Zayn beams.

-

Looking back at it now, he’s never realized he was the happiest when he was with Harry. Harry Styles changed a lot of things in him that he never thought was possible before.

  
Hell, he wasn’t even sure he liked boys before Harry came along and flashed him that lovely smile of his. It took him one dimpled smile and _oh boy Zayn was so fucking gone for this boy_.

  
-

  
The months following his departure, Zayn spends his time with his family living like a normal 22-year old guy with a fucking mansion each in at least four cities in England.

 

-

  
On the 3rd of October in 2015, Zayn picks up his balls off the floor after months of no contact with the boys and shows up at their gig as a surprise.

  
He was bracing himself for the cold treatment as he makes his way into the boys’ dressing room, couple of hours before their show starts in Manchester. He was received warmly by the crew, going through a number of hugs and kisses from the people there before he gets to his destination.

  
What he wasn’t expecting to see there so soon was Harry. When he was still in the band, ten minutes before hopping on stage they were still nowhere near their dressing rooms, so it was a surprise that Harry’s here, already. Two hours before the show. He was lounging at the couch shirtless while a number of button downs were laid out in front of him, so he could choose what he liked best.

  
He looks up from the magazine he’s thumbing through, meeting Zayn’s gaze and equally taken aback.

  
Zayn walks over to him and takes a seat next to him, careful not to touch Harry. No matter how much he wants to at the moment, he can’t bring himself to touch him when he knows he hurt him.

  
“Don’t.” is all Harry says.

“I’m sorry, Harry.”

“I know, you’ve told me so many times already. What else are you here for?”

  
“I’m here for you, Harry.” Zayn unclasps the necklace he’s wearing, removes the rings from them and places them onto his palm.

  
_He still remembers._ Harry thinks.

  
“I’m sorry for all the shit I’ve put you through. I know I’ve hurt you so many times, when all you’ve asked from me is to choose you. It took me a long while to realize this but Harry Styles—“ and Zayn’s tearing up now, unable to continue his speech. 

Harry's so unsure of what to do. He can't easily let Zayn win him back easily, but he also can't stand the sight of him crying in front of him, begging to take him back. So pushes everything else behind and envelops Zayn in a hug.

He curses himself internally.  _God, why am I so easy?_

  
“Yes, Zayn. Yes.” Harry holds his other hand over excitedly, giving it a squeeze as though it’s giving him a confirmation. Almost as if the past years didn’t happen.

  
“You twat, let me at least finish.” Harry coaxes a smile from Zayn through his tears, a thing that Harry ever manages to do.

  
“Let me.” Zayn returns Harry’s rings to him, slipping the gold and silver to his ring and middle fingers just like Harry did to Zayn years ago.

  
“We’re back to being engaged and married at the same time, I guess.” Harry smiles, a genuine one.

  
Zayn kisses Harry’s knuckles this time, mumbling a line from the song he wrote for Harry.

  
_And right from the start you know I got you._

**Author's Note:**

> Finally got around to write about my feelings over Zayn leaving the band and articles that tell of Harry begging Zayn to stay. I was meaning to write a 500-word drabble but this got out of hand. This was a result of me bottling up my feelings for entire two weeks, because I have lots of paper to write back in uni and it's just late this week that I got some days off.
> 
> Also, I tried my best to keep my dates and cities right. Manila was unnecessarily mentioned in this fic, but I kind of wanted to put it out there cause it's where I'm from. It's such a bummer that Zayn had to go before I even got to meet him. ANYWAY.
> 
> Haven't proofread this as well, kinda just started writing down and posted once I finished it. All errors are mine. 
> 
> Let me know in the comments if you liked it :)


End file.
